This is October

Almost exactly three years ago I wrote about losing my two grandparents in October and how it feels like a month of grieving for me. Grandpa died on October 7, 1996 and Grandma died October 30, 2008.

It took me a few years to just accept that in October I will always feel sad. I learned to let those feelings run their course and take the time to remember them and their legacy in my family. Because of that, October has always been just an “off” month, but the last few years’ worth of Octobers have been relatively good.

Until this year.

When my Grandma went in to the hospital back in July for stomach pains that resulted in major surgery, I was moderately hopeful she’d recover, at least to a degree. She started therapy in August and was making some progress.

But as the days went on, she grew tired. She stopped eating well and started sleeping most days. She began to look gaunt, her face thin and drawn. I went to see her one day and she just looked deathly. I was horrified when my mom said she had looked worse the day before. At least we managed a conversation about the difference of iced tea in the South versus the North.

I went back a week later and Grandma didn’t remember me until maybe halfway through my visit. During that time, she would reach for my hand. I’d hold it for a few minutes, then she’d pull it away. It was upsetting and to be honest, traumatizing. Her brother from Oregon called while I was there and watching her struggle to communicate with him was equally hard. Words and stories were never a problem for her and that struggle told me all I needed to know about the future.

I could feel the grief begin to come back in full force.

She was gone three days later.

Grandma had always been so articulate and sharp. Nothing, and I mean nothing got past that woman. I confessed to her about stealing mints she made for my uncle’s wedding off of the table 18 years after the fact and she responded with, “Oh, I knew. I just wanted to see how long you’d live with the guilt.” She always had something to say and while her stories got long and frankly a bit boring, I am going to miss her talking my ear off.

Her funeral was nice. A lot of family came in from very far away and that meant a lot to everyone. It was pretty obvious Grandma was the favorite aunt of my dad’s cousins and why wouldn’t she have been? There was lively conversation, laughter, and tears. Grandma would have loved it. It was a perfect testament to her life.

Grieving is going to come in waves, just like it did with my other two grandparents. Some days I’ll be fine, others will be overwhelming.

Grandma had a hard life. She lost three young children close together. If anyone had reason to be bitter about life, it would have been her.

But that wasn’t Grandma. She was happy, at least as long as I knew her.

I want to be like Grandma as I grow up. Two lines from her obituary are what I am going to strive for in life:

“Rebecca had the gift of hospitality, and loved hosting guests. She was known for her good cooking, especially making pies. She was fully involved with life.“

That guiding goal will help shape me from now on in everything I do, including making pies.